


Tacenda

by Traxits



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Shazam (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talk about the nightmares; they don't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tacenda

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a little different my normal style of writing, but I'm trying to use these prompts to kind of break out of my mold a bit, so we'll see how this experiment works? I think I'm happy with this one, honestly, but I don't know that I'd use this style on very many other pieces.
> 
> Prompt 15: Silence.

In his dreams, he's gagged. Not only is he gagged, but he's tied up, isolated and alone. He's unable to so much as even feel Shazam under his skin, unable to feel the lightning. He wakes cold and gasping, eyes open up at the ceiling. He doesn't know how often it happens, but for quite a while, it's regular enough that Freddy notices. After that, Billy stops sleeping at the house. He sleeps in the Rock of Eternity, and he can stay awake and do homework at the house. It's the only way to make certain that Freddy doesn't know. Billy doesn't let himself think too much about it.

Then he meets Jason. He meets Jason and they start hanging out. Jason's safehouses don't always have easy access underground. Worse, Jason notices when Billy leaves, and more importantly, he notices that Billy doesn't sleep.

He doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't have to. He just fixes tea (Billy isn't sure he'll ever get used to that) and sits with him. He shrugs it off when Billy opens his mouth to apologize.

Billy stops trying after a little while. He sits there, hands wrapped around the warm mug of tea that he isn't sure he likes, and he stares into it, studying the pattern of the leaves that inevitably escape the strainer.

When he's older, Jason finds other ways to distract him, and he appreciates it. He needs those distractions, because it feels like the world is falling apart instead of getting better. Jason only snorts if Billy ever asks him what he thinks about it.

Billy fixes the tea these days, stealing away when Jason is tangled in the sheets, and he stands in the kitchens and watches the water heat up. There's been too many kitchens to count, too many pots, too many nights where Billy can feel every minute ticking by. But the tea is the same, and there's something soothing about it. He fixes two cups, because just as he pours the water of the infusers, Jason comes into the kitchen. He watches Billy from across the room, leaning in the doorway.

Billy can feel that too, just like the quiet in the kitchen. Neither of them say anything. What is there to say? Jason watches him until the third minute has ticked by, then he moves to take the cups and pull the infusers. He adds a sprinkle of sugar— no spoon, he just dips his fingers into the sugar bag and sprinkles it with the same careless motion that chefs add salt to their masterpieces— to Billy's mug, and Billy takes it from him. He brushes his hands against Jason's, and his breath catches the way it has ever since he was a kid and thought the Red Hood was the coolest damn hero that he'd ever seen.

Aggressive, yeah, but the Red Hood made Darla feel safe. He made her feel like he was her personal hero because everyone knew that Jason protected kids.

Jason's hand slides up to stroke against Billy's wrist, and Billy looks up at him. There's a tremor in his hand, and Jason's eyes narrow as he watches Billy watch him. Then Jason leans in, his lips touching Billy's temple. Billy's eyes close, but he doesn't make a sound, can't quite bring himself to break the low thrum of silence, punctuated only with the occasional siren that screams by.

Each time a siren goes off, the room is awash in red, and Billy can't help but look up at Jason again. Red Hood, bathed in a warm red burst of light that fades as quickly as it comes up. Billy licks his bottom lip, and Jason puts two fingers against the bottom of the mug, pushing it up.

Billy holds his gaze as he sips, and there's that familiar warm rush. He still doesn't know that he likes this tea, but he's been drinking it so long now that it's familiar. Easy. Jason drinks his with the same thoughtless ease that belies how long _he's_ been drinking it. Billy bites his bottom lip, takes another sip, and he moves to sit down at the table. Table after table bleeds into each other in his memories. Like the kitchens, there's been too many to count. It's almost reassuring, knowing that the constant here is the constant changing.

The constant sameness that comes with each change.

Jason drops into the chair across from Billy, and he breathes in a rhythmic pattern that Billy knows comes from time with the League of Assassins. It's an exercise to keep himself focused, to keep the nightmares at bay. Billy wishes it worked for him, but he knows better. He tried it years ago, along with the meditation that Jason performs each day. It hadn't made anything worse, thankfully, it hadn't helped either.

Billy's pretty sure that the 'polite' thing to do would be to ask if Jason's okay. Shazam would ask if Jason's okay. Billy can't quite make himself, can't let himself crack the door enough for Jason to ask him the same thing. So they sit together, drinking tea, and Billy moves in his seat just enough to reach out with one foot. Jason's still in his pajama bottoms, and Billy meets Jason's eyes, completely straight-faced, as he angles his foot enough to slide the tips of his toes under the edge of that pants leg. Jason raises an eyebrow as he sips his tea, and Billy makes himself keep that expression level, keep his smile hidden. He glances down at his own tea, watching the way the stray leaves twist in the water, as he slides his foot up, arch against the curve of Jason's calf.

It's stupid, and he knows it, but he also knows that he likes this moment with Jason, likes the ease of it, even if he doesn't much care for _why_ he gets it.

(The dreams never get worse at least. It's the only small mercy Billy has. But they're regular and they're horrific and they still terrify him just as much as when he'd had the first one. Which is stupid too, because Jason has shown him what to do if he's restrained, has taught him so many ways to escape that Billy can't remember them all. There's probably been as many of those lessons as there have been kitchens over the years.)

Jason's mug settles back on the table, and Billy looks up at the sound, meeting Jason's gaze with wide eyes. Innocent. Or as close as he thinks he can manage these days.

Jason snorts, the first sound that either of them have made since he got up, and he nods to Billy's mug. Billy glances back down at it, and then he shrugs as he turns it up. One easy chug, a few swallows, and Jason takes the mug the moment it's empty. Billy still hasn't figured out how Jason always gets that timing exactly right, but Jason pulls him up after he sets Billy's mug on the table.

There's a crash from the back room— Roy, probably, working on something that it liable to explode if he gets too enthusiastic— and Jason drags Billy back into the bedroom.


End file.
